The Paint on his Skin
by Phantom-Of-The-Keurig
Summary: Christine notices something odd on Erik's wrist and learns something new about her strange other half.


_A/N: This was based on a one word prompt, 'Paint'. I was going back and forth on what exactly to write, but then I saw a picture of Ramin Karimloo during the 25th anniversary with his tattoo showing. And then this...thing...was born. Please let me know what you loved, liked, hated, or loathed!_

* * *

Christine looked up from the crisp pages of her novel and yawned. It was rather late, and she rubbed her tired eyes. She placed the book on the small table beside her and stood. She stretched her arms above her head as another yawn flowed from her. She turned towards the large dining table where Erik had been doing- well something, but it had involved a large array of paints and brushes.

She opened her mouth to bid him goodnight, but stopped short when she spotted his head down and resting on his right arm. Christine quietly inched closer to his sleeping form. Erik rarely slept, in fact she had never seen him asleep before. As far as she knew, Erik _never_ slept. Nevertheless, she stood beside him and accepted that maybe he did sleep sometimes.

The uncovered side of his face was tucked against the crook of his right arm, while the mask on the other portion of his face faced out towards her. Christine smiled, he must have fallen asleep in the midst of painting. At least, that's what she assumed he had been doing. The table around him was littered with various paint brushes and a mess of different colors.

His left hand was stretched out and rested beside the pallet of paints. Christine nearly giggled when she spotted a dark swish of dry paint trailing up from under his sleeve on his wrist. She hoped the paint wouldn't ruin the nice shirt he wore, and she gently kissed his masked cheek before retreating to her room.

* * *

"Erik, dear, you missed a spot!"

Erik looked up from his letter and his left hand froze above the ink-pot. Christine was looking at him from the large armchair she adored, and he suddenly felt embarrassed. "I beg your pardon?" He said sheepishly as he brought his hand and the pen back to him. He watched her stand and cross the room towards him. When she reached out her hand towards his face he flinched back, but still Christine captured his chin and held it gently.

"You have paint on your face, dear." She told him cheerfully. Erik sat silently as she began rubbing a spot on his uncovered jaw with her thumb. "Do you always fall asleep while you paint?" She asked playfully, and Erik felt his cheeks grow warm. "I'm only teasing, Erik. There, all better."

"Thank you." Erik said as he brought his hand up to touch the spot she had rubbed at. Christine clasped his hand and brought it away from his jaw. He watched in bewilderment as she began to rub her thumb against the skin on his left wrist.

"Oh, I noticed this last night. I hope it didn't stain your shirt." She chattered on. "Would it not wash off in the bath? It's really stuck on there. Stay here, I'll go wet a rag!" Christine turned and scampered off to her bedroom. Erik whipped his wrist back to his person and pulled back his left sleeve to find the paint she spoke about. He knew it was not unlikely he missed a spot on his face after bathing this morning, he didn't dare look in a mirror even when shaving.

Erik almost fell out of his seat when he realized what Christine was talking about. Relieved he wouldn't seem like a small child incapable of bathing himself, he laughed. Christine returned to him with a wash bowl and small cloth. She quirked her head at his amused face and placed the bowl on the table.

Before she could ask what he found so funny, Erik cleared his throat and grinned. "You silly, wonderful girl. Did you think I had paint on my wrist?" She planted her hands on her hips and nodded. Erik chuckled again and pulled back the sleeve on his left wrist for her to see. "I'm afraid no amount of scrubbing will wash this away, love."

Christine peered down at his wrist and gasped. He had what looked like a small skull imprinted into his skin. She thought about the stagehands and sailors she had seen with small designs inked below their skin. Those men had always been gruff and bulky, and she always thought their tattoos were frightening in a way.

Erik lowered his wrist and frowned. "Do you hate it? I know, it's ghastly. Would you believe me if I told you I don't remember receiving it?" She looked at him questioningly and he nodded. "It's true. I believe it occurred during my time in Southeast Asia. I can't remember any details I'm afraid. I was not in the best state of mind during my travels." He sighed and glanced off to the side. "I introduced just about every toxin one can into my system. That does awful things to one's memory."

Christine quietly took in a deep breath before smiling and nodding. "Well, I think it's very… _interesting_." She turned to return the wash cloth and bowl to her room. Erik watched her as she went and felt his chest tighten. His beautiful, lovely Christine obviously found the mark on his skin disturbing. Most people did, himself included. Yet his Christine tried her best not to let that show, and he was thankful that the woman he loved with his entire being was the kindest person he had ever encountered.


End file.
